


Best Avoidable Mistake

by ImaniJoain



Series: Unlikely Singularities [18]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-06
Updated: 2017-12-20
Packaged: 2019-02-11 09:55:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 6
Words: 12,354
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12932811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImaniJoain/pseuds/ImaniJoain
Summary: The Nobel Prize ceremony has finally been rescheduled, but of course that's when Darcy comes down with the flu. Steve and Bucky promise to keep Jane safe, but there is still the chance that whomever set the bombs in December will be back to try again. Darcy will have to wait at home while everyone she loves is in danger. And while Tony is on hand to help the super soldiers out, little Maria is there too. Choices will need to be made about who to protect, and who the Avengers can trust.*Set 4/22/17 - 4/28/17





	1. Ghost Runner

**Author's Note:**

> Finally, we're back to Steve/Darcy again. Ugh - they're so great together. I think Steve's already planning on adding a breakfast bar to his bedroom, just so Darcy never has to leave again.

**April 22, 2017**

 

“Maybe you should call Dr. Cho.” Steve gnawed on his lower lip with worry made sharper by the miles between Stockholm and New York. On his tablet screen, Darcy wiggled a hand out from under piles of blankets to wave him off.

“Evie was in town yesterday for Pepper’s appointment. She stopped by with some soup and juice. I’m fine, Steve. It’s just the flu.”

“Did you eat the soup?” Steve asked shrewdly.

She shook her head. “I had her put it in the fridge. But my stomach is feeling better today. I haven’t thrown up in hours.”

Steve could see from the headboard and exposed brick behind her that she was in her old apartment, and it gave him a twinge of dissatisfaction. Darcy had slept in his bed – either at the townhouse, the upstate facility, or the Tower – every night since their fourth date. It made him uncomfortably homesick and even more worried to not have her there even when he couldn’t be there himself. It made more sense though. His bedroom was three floors up from the kitchen, whereas her apartment was all on one level. As feverish and achy as she had been the past week, he didn’t want her trying the stairs. She could get dizzy and fall.

“How is your temperature? Are you making sure to drink enough? My ma always said that tea with honey was the best medicine.”

“Under a hundred, Nurse Ratchet.” She smiled, “And my dad said the same thing, but with cinnamon schnapps. Wait, maybe that was for colds? Or strep throat? You know, now that I think about it, that might have been more of an all-purpose cure. Drink. Party mix. Never mind. Tell me how the speech went. Did she wow them? Of course she wowed them. Were they groveling at her feet? Did anyone beg her to work with them – or wait, teach? How many offers, Steve? Give me the down and dirty.”

Steve did, replaying the evening reception and Jane’s acceptance speech for her Nobel. After the bomb scare in December, it had taken months to find a secure location and reschedule, but Dr. Foster was finally receiving her due recognition. The scientific community had, indeed, been wowed. He spoke quietly in deference to the tiny woman crashed out in the other bedroom in the hotel suite. Bucky was taking the first watch, camped out in the sitting area in between the two rooms and no doubt cleaning weapons. Steve should have been catching up on his sleep before he had to get up to spell Buck, but he had to talk to Darcy first.

She was beginning to flag, her nose still red from too many tissues – she refused to use the hankies he had provided despite his assurances they were softer. Chapped lips cracked into a smile at his story. Her skin was pale, her usually bouncy hair dull and pulled into a messy knot on top of her head. Any normal man would wonder if there was something wrong in his head, to find her so beautiful in that moment. Whatever caused it, Steve hoped it never  went away. He wouldn't let it.

"Did Tony make it? Maria texted me about nine million times after he told her the surprise. I think she wore down the battery on my phone.”

Steve chuckled. “Yes. They made it. And she was sure to get plenty of photos with Jane and send them all to Lila Barton. The Foster Fan Club was well represented.”

“Awesome. I think Tony said something about taking her to a museum before the medal presentation tonight. They’re coming back first thing Monday so she only has to miss one day of school.” Darcy yawned and then rolled her neck with a grimace. Steve empathized. He knew how awful the flu was and the muscles aches could linger for weeks.

“I should let you get back to sleep, sweetheart. Make sure and get some food today, okay?”

“I’m not gonna argue that.”

“Will wonders never cease,” he said dryly.

“Har, har. Keep it up, Rogers and I’ll go get my icky germs all over your room too. You’ll have to wash _all_ the sheets.”

“Not a problem,” his soft reply made her smile. “Anything you need. Just get better, Darce.”

“Thanks.” Her eyes opened a little wider, as if she was forcing herself not to sleep. “Again. Just thanks. And tell Bucky too. I know you guys could have just sent security. But I promised Thor I’d look after Jane and she deserves the best and you-”

“Hey. It’s okay. Anything for my girl. And Bucky was secretly dying to come. Nerd.”

“Look who’s talking, dork.” She grinned, obviously exhausted.

“Sweet dreams, Darcy. I love you.”

“Love you too, Steve. Bring my back my Jane with a fancy gold medal. And some of those pancakes they have there.”

She had already hung up with a kissey face, but Steve still responded to the blank tablet. “Anything you want.”

 

***

 

Darcy slid from Steve’s couch to the floor dropping her travel mug of hot tea and knocking her soup onto her flannel pajama pants and the rug. She barely noticed the burn or the sharp smell of tomato.

“We are now getting live coverage of what is happening at the Nobel Awards in Sweden. These graphic images may be shocking to some viewers.” A box popped up next to the reporter, showing hazy smoke drifting and people running and yelling in the confusion. The camera fell, tumbling and coming to rest against a dropped bowl of hamburger. Red chunks were ground into the carpet. It took a moment for Darcy to realize it was part of a body and a plate glass window. The video cut out. “We apologize for that, we are trying to review and get out information as quickly as we can. Local law enforcement have confirmed that multiple armed persons stormed the building where the awards were being held. At least two bombs have been set off, and unconfirmed reports of deaths are circulating. Some of the attendees and staff did manage to escape before the building was locked down by the gunmen, and they provided the video you just saw as well as accounts of the activity inside.”

The reporter held his hand up to his ear, listening. Darcy could feel her stomach rolling with the toast she had for breakfast. Jane was there. She hadn’t wanted to go and Darcy had pushed, pushed and told her it was important. When it became clear she would be too sick to travel, Darcy had begged Steve to watch out for Jane. He had taken Bucky with him. They were in danger because Darcy had – _oh, god. Maria._ Tony had taken Maria to watch the ceremony. _Oh, god._ Darcy threw up on Steve’s coffee table.

“We have confirmed that the Nobel recipients are all still inside, including Dr. Jane Foster, who has become famous for her portal technology that prevented disaster in London several years ago. At the time, Dr. Foster was in the company of the Avenger known as Thor, and it appears that there was at least one other Avenger with her tonight. Sources are confirming that Tony Stark, also known as Iron Man, was seen at the conference yesterday. Captain America may have also been inside this evening.

“We will keep you updated as we receive more information. Until then, please, keep your thoughts and prayers in Stockholm, and with the brightest minds of our time. Let us hope that the Avengers and local law enforcement can end this threat quickly and as peacefully as possible.

“For those of you just joining us...”


	2. Infield Shift

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oooo - you kattabaker!

**April 23, 2017**

 

Steve turned his face slightly, scanning the crowd, as he spoke into his comm, “Status, Soldier?” Jane Foster was within arm’s reach in front of him, speaking with several of the distinguished guests. It was a testament to both Jane’s intellect and the crowd that no one seemed to care that Captain America was in their midst. Even without the suit, Steve was fairly recognizable unless he was working to blend in, but the folks at the Nobel awards mostly ignored him. It was kind of nice.

“Clear.” Bucky sounded tense, which wasn’t unexpected. He disliked crowds of people, and trying to protect a target that was surrounded by strangers in a room with multiple points of egress and several sniper positions was putting him on edge. And none of the food or drinks being passed around had been cleared by the Avengers, just private security. Even finding his own nest above the ballroom wasn’t going to make Buck happy with that many variables. Steve didn’t glance up, but he could feel Bucky’s eyes on him.

“Another 20 minutes and they’ll begin seating for the ceremony,” Steve assured him. “Eyes on Stark and Junior?”

“Junior is headed your way, SI guard in tow. At your four o’clock. Stark’s at seven – looks like he’s being tortured by a socialite.”

Steve looked around. Tony did looked pained to be listening to a very young, barely dressed woman and a group of what Darcy would have described as Euro-hipster-intellects. People too well-dressed and fashion conscious to be academics, but working very hard to project that image. As much as Tony enjoyed talking about himself – and he really, really did – this was the sort of fanclub/entrapment scenario that he had been trying to avoid for several years. At least he would have a good excuse to get away once the ceremony started. It took Steve another second to spot Maria making her way through the crowd. Her smaller frame made it easy to dodge and weave; the SI employee assigned to guard her was considerably more frustrated and was falling behind.

Foster was animatedly speaking to her own group, who were hanging on every word. Discreetly, Steve pressed a button on his watch to take a still image of it. Darcy would be so pleased to see her friend relaxed and in her element.

“Fucking hell,” Stark broke into the communications line. “What are they teaching young people nowadays? I had to pretend to want to speak to the Greek Ambassador to get away from those idiots. No one wants to speak to the Greek Ambassador. No one.”

“Nowadays?” Bucky murmured quietly.

“Stark, this channel is for security purposes,” Steve reminded him mildly.

“This is a security purpose, don’t get your spandex in a twist! I’m currently hiding behind a goddamn potted plant to avoid both the Greek and the nutjobs who want to nominate me for a peace prize. Are they fucking kidding?” Tony was hissing over the line, and Steve had to work hard to control his expression. “It was a nuke, not a goddamn end to world hunger. I sold fucking weapons, people. Weapons. Made them. Designed them. One nuke in space does not negate that. What the hell?”

“Tony,” Steve said softly, then hesitated. A year ago he would have tried to order him off the comm – which wouldn’t have worked. Under Darcy’s influence, he was trying a new tact. “Do you need an extraction?”

“Sweet mother of heavy metal, you bet your ass I do. Hey, Killer Queen, you see a good way out?”

Bucky was quiet for long enough that Steve worried he had taken offense. Although Tony wasn’t actively hostile to Bucky anymore, he wasn’t exactly polite either.

“North along the wall, twenty-two meters. Turn right at the woman in the green turban. Twelve meters, then-”

An explosion shook the ballroom. The lights went out, and several people screamed before the yellowish emergency lighting could kick on.

“Soldier, report.” Steve grabbed Jane’s arm, tugging her in close to him and drawing his new collapsible shield from under his suit coat. It was smaller and didn’t throw as well as his regular shield, but it was a hell of a lot more discreet and could still keep bullets out of him. With the press of a button it expanded, creating a disc of interlocked vibranium plates two feet across. He kept Jane between him and the shield, crouching while he waited for Bucky’s assessment.

“Two hostiles on second level, north. Three on second level, south. More incoming. Do I have-”

Shots rang out, and more screams erupted. People began pushing, trying to move away from the danger and causing panic. Smoke and dust were drifting into the room, making vision difficult. Many dropped to the floor to get out of the line of fire. It was the worst sort of situation for Avengers to work in, and the new guidelines Darcy had worked on recommended that they let local law enforcement deal with vanilla crime and terrorism – especially in heavily concentrated groups of civilians.

“Where’s Junior?” Tony’s voice over the comm was quiet but thready with stress. “Soldier, do you have eyes on Junior?”

“Quiet!” The shout was repeated in several other languages and punctuated by shots into the ceiling. Steve watched the glow of the muzzle to determine distance and direction of the shooter.

“Junior is directly below me,” Buck whispered. “She found cover.”

“I am looking for Dr. M’benga. Produce him, and we will leave you good people unharmed. Do not...” The man tutted. Steve tried to place his accent. One of the Latin American countries. M’benga’s name he recognized. The man had been awarded the prize for medicine. His research isolated several genes for crippling diseases. If someone or some organization wanted him – it could not be for altruistic reasons. Steve wasn’t sure what it could mean, but he knew it wasn’t good.

Bucky listed off all of the hostiles he could identify and their locations. The room was fairly well covered, but Steve could get Foster out. It would mean leaving the rest of the people behind.

“I see M’benga. Ten meters from you, Stark. At your twelve o’clock. No personal security with him.”

“Do you have your suit?” Steve kept his voice low, but Jane still looked up at him. Her eyes were wide and black in the dim light. She squeezed them shut and breathed slowly, trying to remain calm. _Please, remain calm._

“No,” Tony cursed. “Just a prototype light-armor. I need to get to Junior. Soldier-”

“No.” Steve could hear Tony suck in an angry breath. They needed to get the priority target, M’benga, and Jane and Maria to safety before they could consider helping to take down the terrorists. It grated on Steve to walk away from a fight – to leave any people in danger, but he wasn’t in a good position to help anyone and protection of his charges came first – then deescalating the situation. Then slamming his shield into the face of any assholes with guns too stupid to run away. “I’m closer. I’ll get her. You get M’benga out of here.”

“Captain-” Tony snarled.

“I won’t let anything happen to her.”

At Steve’s promise, Tony huffed out a breath. “Fine. What’s the signal?”

“Soldier, I want a distraction. Try to minimize casualties, but I don’t want anyone getting back up to shoot. Take as many as you can out of commission.”

“On it.” The gunman at the front of the room was still yelling, threatening to begin shooting people if M’benga did not come forward. “In three. Two. O-”

“Wait!” A tall man stood above those couching on the floor. “I am M’benga. Please, do not hurt...”

“Shit,” Tony said.

“Damn it,” Steve muttered.

“What is it?” Foster asked.

Then Bucky went to work.

Steve’s enhanced ears made out the soft _pft, pft_ of the silenced rifle in the hands of the world’s deadliest assassin, but it wasn’t until the third body hit the ground and the first man down started screaming that the enemy realized they had opposition. Shouts among the gunmen were followed by a few random shots toward the ceiling, but Bucky kept calmly taking care of things. Steve watched as a short figure limned in silvery-blue light slammed into M’benga, taking him down. He gripped Jane around the waist and began hauling her backward, walking sideways to keep his shield between her and the danger and allow him to watch where they were going. It was difficult to tell in the confusion and increasing smoke, but he remembered Bucky’s location perfectly and the high-top table that had been below him. Hopefully Maria had stayed hidden there.

He was halfway to the kid when the second bomb went off. The room shook. A chandelier broke lose from the ceiling and crashed to the floor a few meters away, crushing at least one person and cutting Steve off from Maria. The obvious sound of repulsor fire and sudden bursts of white light alerted everyone in the room to Tony’s location. Chunks of plaster were falling and automatic weapons fire erupted.

“Hostiles closing in,” Bucky reported. “Move, Captain.” As he spoke, a shot pinged off his shield. Steve looked up into the eyes of a surprised terrorist.

“¡Jefe! Refuerzos! ¡Es el Capitán América!” Two more men appeared out of the smoke beside him, kicking away stumbling civilians and opening fire. Steve was pinned down.


	3. Designated Hitter

**April 23, 2017**

 

Tony’s heart was racing at the pace of four-red-bulls-and-electro-shock-therapy-in- _space_ as he reached into his jacket pocket for the controls to Mark-lite VIII. His little girl was out there. She was out there, alone, scared, and he couldn’t help her. He had argued with Steve, but he knew it without anyone having to say it. He was too far away to do her any good, and the best way to resolve the situation was to get the impetus for it – M’benga – as far away as possible. Steve would take care of Junior. Howard had liked to tell a story about how Steve carried three men – including Dum Dum Dugan – out of a foxhole and then three miles to safety. All while under air bombardment. He could handle a woman smaller than most pre-pubescent boys and a shrimp like Junior. Steve wouldn’t even notice the weight. They’d be fine. She’d be fine.

Tony slapped the control module, a miniature arc-reactor mounted to a rectangle the size and thickness of a tin of mints, against his chest. Without looking, he keyed in the start-up sequence. Friday came to life in his ear on a dedicated channel.

“The Mark-lite VIII is not ready for field testing, boss.”

“No time like the present,” Tony whispered from his position behind the world’s largest fern. Palm. Fern palm. Actually, it might have been a tree. Botany was never much of an interest for him. His breath was still too fast, and his pulse was doing its level best to rocket right out of his veins. His mind kept veering to Junior. Where she might be hiding. If she was scared. What her little body would look like if she got hit with a large-caliber bullet. The hole that would-

He forced his mind away from that. “I need one hundred percent in the next thirty seconds.”

“More than eighty percent not recommended, boss.” His glasses flashed with scrolling diagnostics for the suit, and a schematic for the building popped up. The closest exit was guarded, but it would have to do. Without a full suit there was no way Tony could carry another full-grown man very far. He wished he had said to hell with fashion and brought the briefcase suit with him.

“On it,” Barnes’ dispassionate voice came over the team channel.

“Now, Friday.” Tony kept his eyes on M’benga’s approximate location and braced his feet, ready to run as soon as the light armor was initialized.

“Three.” Barnes sounded like he was counting oranges, he was so calm.

The control module expanded, sending straps over his shoulders to meet in the center of his back. Metal plates in the approximate shape and size of a bulletproof vest unfolded to protect his torso.

“Two.”

His watch spun around and flipped out so that the face lay against his palm; a repulsor glowed softly against his skin. The heavy watch links and the slim metal bracelet he wore on the opposite wrist shot out wire filaments of vibranium, creating a mesh across his lower arms and fists. He pressed down hard on the heels of his elevator shoes, taking a moment to consider that he finally had a legitimate reason to give his height a boost. More wire filaments wrapped over his feet and lower legs, snaking all the way up to mid-thigh and creating both armor and a rudimentary exo-skeleton that would boost his speed and strength.

“O-”

“Wait!” A tall man stood above those crouching on the floor.

“Boss, we are operating at ninety-two percent. Blueprints have been overlaid on your vision, and the most efficacious route for extraction highlighted.”

“I am M’benga. Please, do not hurt...”

“Shit,” Tony said.

“Damn it,” Steve muttered.

 _What was it with people trying to be noble and just fucking up the plan instead?_ Ha. Noble. Nobel. If he hadn’t been worried that his child would die – followed by about a hundred other people including himself, he might have laughed out loud. Tony didn’t have time to consider it, because the shouting started. Barnes must have been doing his job. Bad guys spurred into action, charging into the room and firing towards the ceiling – ignoring civilians. Tony took that as his cue. He pushed off the floor and in two steps had enough momentum to barrel into M’benga and carry the taller man down into the shadows created by the smoke.

“Stay down,” he hissed, checking the overlay on his glasses and listening for movement around him.

“Mr. Stark?” The man began coughing. Tony’s throat was irritated too, and he reminded himself to develop some sort of helmet and filtration system for the Mark-lite.

“Come with me. Stay low, stay close, and move when I say.” Tony yanked the man to his feet and moved carefully, using the heat sensors in his glasses to identify civilians on the ground and terrorists running through the room. Sneaking around had never been Tony’s thing. You need secret messages passed? Call Natalie. You need fireworks and death metal and a fucking three-ring circus? Tony did that sort of shit before breakfast. Creeping silently and ignoring the chaos around him was a totally different thing. Chaos that was also surrounding Junior. Chaos with gunfire and bad guys and-

Fucking _bombs_.

The room shook. More screams. Shots. A crash. _Fuck stealth._ Tony lifted his hand and fired at the emergency exit. Fortunately, the gunman standing in front of the door never saw it coming. The blast took him in the chest, then took his chest into the heavy metal fire door, then took the door off its hinges. Tony shoved M’benga out through the new opening, keeping his palm outstretched and ready to hit anyone who might be patrolling outside. He was greeted by a Swedish swat team in full gear. Swed-SWAT.

“Drop your weapon!” He was given the order in Swedish and English, but Tony ignored it, keeping his repulsor up.

“Here!” He shoved M’benga at the nearest man. “They’re after him.” Then he turned his back on the locals. “Friday, what can you give me?”

“Sending you the Winter Soldier’s camera now, boss.” Swed-SWAT was still talking demanding answers and trying to order him to get out of the way.

Tony’s vision was overlaid with a blue-tinted projection of what Barnes was seeing. His location had been perfectly scouted to allow a three-hundred-sixty degree view of the room from a dropped portion of the ceiling that concealed HVAC and media equipment. Two of the four mezzanines were clear, but figures in tac gear were on the ballroom floor, moving on Steve’s position. A massive crystal light fixture had fallen, separating Steve and Foster from where Tony guessed Junior was hiding. He zoomed in. The askew tablecloth was high enough on one side to reveal a pair of gold ballet flats and torn sparkly tights.

 _Maria_.

“Hostiles closing in,” Barnes reported. “Move, Captain.” Tony’s heart stopped beating. The terrorists on the floor were surrounding Steve, their guns raised to shoot. Five more armed men were approaching from behind, kicking civilians out of the way and knocking over tables as they moved. If they found her -

Shots ricocheted off of Steve’s shield and Tony threw himself into the room. Steve couldn’t move. He couldn’t get to her. _Maria. Maria. Maria. Maria._

“¡Jefe! Refuerzos! ¡Es el Capitán América!”

There was a crash, a terrible groan or support beams, and a black and silver streak of death and destruction fell from the ceiling. Three of the five men went down with neat holes in their chests before Barnes hit the floor. He didn’t stop moving, but rolled up to one knee and fired again – taking down another man. The ceiling was shaking, and Friday was speaking in Tony’s ear,

“Local law enforcement has discovered two more explosive devices and have the building surrounded. Boss, you -”

“Get down!” Tony screamed and it echoed back to him through his own comm. Barnes threw himself at the last remaining table, curling his body over Maria’s and bracing his metal arm over their heads. Two tons of plaster, wood, and mechanical equipment came raining down on them.

“Gå, gå, gå!” The SWAT leader shouted behind Tony, but he wasn’t paying attention. A bullet grazed against his bicep, leaving a wake of heat, but Tony fired off a repulsor at the shooter. Another terrorist went down, and another. And another. All as Tony ran across the ballroom, leaping over civilians and taking out anything that stood between him and his daughter. Steve’s shield glinted in the yellow light and the crunch of bones against vibranium was loud as he took out his own attackers. Tony was half-way there, desperately watching the pile of debris that had buried Maria and Barnes, when a dust covered figure straightened up.

A sheet of broken gypsum slid to one side, and a silvery arm tossed the mangled remains of a furnace unit away. Barnes stood, cascading dust into the weak beams of flash lights and emergency lamps. With his flesh arm he reached back down into the pile and pulled up a much smaller figure. Her black skirt was torn, revealing ruined tights and skinned knees. Her gold blouse was mostly clean and glittered brightly, drawing a shaky sigh of relief from Tony. And drawing his eyes. And every eye.

SWAT was taking out what was left of the terrorists and dealing with hysterical hostages. Steve was still protecting Foster and quite a few civilians that had gravitated to him, and keeping watch over a pile of unconscious bad guys. Barnes had lost his rifle in the fall. Both of his hands were empty. An automatic weapon, dull and black and sinister, was leveled at Maria.

Tony was too far away.

He had heard moments of intense pressure described as slow-motion. Hell, he had lived through it, where every second was a year and time trickled by like each individual moment needed to be savored, agonized over, excruciatingly experienced. This was not like that.

The tiny muzzle flash exploded before Tony could speak, move, think. And then Barnes and Maria were on the floor.

How many people died then, Tony would never be able to recall. He only knew that he was on one side of the room - and then he wasn’t and no one had stopped him. He fell to his knees, yanking away splintered wood and the remains of the ceiling and his throat was raw from screaming but all he could hear was the pound of blood in his ears. He found Barnes first, and under him Maria. Her face, Maria’s little face, was white with dust and her eyes squinched shut. Her mouth was moving but no sound came out.

“Maria! Baby! Come on, I’m right here. We’re gonna get you out of there. Just hold on, sweetie!” Without the lite armor suit he never would have managed to move Barnes’ heavy body, but as soon as he did Maria sucked in a noisy breath. She was covered in dirt. But no blood. Not a drop of blood on her. She coughed and her eyes popped open.

“Daddy!” She threw herself at Tony, sobbing and coughing and choking on her words. He couldn’t let go. He held on, probably too tight. His muscles were so tense he wasn’t sure he could release her if he wanted to.

“Maria. Maria.”

There was a quiet whir of mechanics, barely audible under the shouts from Swed-SWAT and all the confusion. Barnes shifted, a groan of air easing out of him. Tony gathered Maria closer, pulling her into his lap and tucking her face against his neck as he looked down at the Winter Soldier. The back of his jacket was ripped open to reveal the armor plating inside. A dent nearly two inches deep surrounded a smashed bullet. If it had been anyone but a super soldier, the impact alone would have broken their spine. Tony swallowed hard. The bullet was mid-back. At the same height as Maria’s skull.

She was alive because the Winter Sol- because _Barnes_ had taken the bullet for her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You got me, kattabaker. You got me.


	4. Chin Music

**April 23, 2017**

 

Darcy paced in her office at Avengers Tower. It was night in Manhattan but not dark. The lights of millions of lives, all bustling and moving and _living_ shined so brightly they drowned out the stars. On a late Sunday night, waiting for Steve or Bucky or Tony or Jane or even the Swedish government to call, it was lonelier than the New Mexico desert had ever been.

“Friday,” she called out, thankful again that she had allowed Tony to install the AI in her office and the large conference rooms, if not the rest of the Foundation space. She did not want to have to face her staff or any one else at the moment.

“How can I be of assistance, Ms. Lewis?”

“Can you put on some music? Low volume. I just need a better background for all of...this.” She waved her had at the flat screen mounted to the wall. A twenty-four hour news station was still reporting on Stockholm, but the real news that Darcy wanted to hear would come through Friday or her own cell phone.

“Certainly.” _Jet_ came through the hidden speakers and Darcy poured herself another cup of highly caffeinated tea from the pot on her bar cart. She had almost completely recovered from her bout of flu, but staying up into the early hours of the morning waiting on word of her friends, her best friend, and her boyfriend was wearing her down.

“If I may, Ms. Lewis?” The AI sounded hesitant.

“Go on, Fri.”

“Although I am unable to monitor Dr. Foster, I feel it is accurate to say that all members of our group are whole and accounted for. Sergeant Barnes and Captain Rogers reported no serious injuries before they shut down their active monitoring. Mr. Stark remains with Ms. Aguilar and they are on their way to the airport.”

Darcy liked the way Friday said ‘our group’. It should have set her on edge, considering Ultron, but she was comforted that Friday considered those people that Darcy was so close to as proprietary. Darcy certainly did. At least if another one of Stark’s inventions gained sentience, it would have a friendly bent toward the good guys.

“I know. Thank you. And I know that Jane wouldn’t have had her phone with her – no pockets. Why is that Friday? Women’s clothing should have adequate pockets regardless of formality. And if Steve’s phone survived a fight it would be a miracle. I _know_ they’re fine, I just...I want to know it. I need to hear it.” She swallowed, “Ugh, that sounds lame.” Darcy flopped down onto her couch, the emerald green velvet luxurious and startling in the best way. “How many of the PR staff have arrived?”

“All except Thomas, Ms. Lewis.” Friday noted that the on-duty logistics person was still in his office, finishing up reports and waiting until the group would board their flight home before he left. Legal had been sent a low-priority notice; until Darcy had mission reports or a communication from a government, the attorneys wouldn’t need to come in. The Nurse Practitioner on duty had already advised her team that their might be minor medical issues – but there was no information from any of the Avengers involved to merit calling in a surgeon. Darcy did send a quick email to medical suggesting that a psychologist trained in pediatrics be located and pushed through security checks – just in case.

“Has our Research Division come in?” Darcy picked up her tablet and opened her email. There was a slight pause before Friday replied.

“Ms. Romanoff is working on the issue and informed me that she will be telecommuting this next week.” Darcy managed a tight smile at that statement. When Natasha was working outside the office, information flowed in for review. She envisioned Natasha in a smokey back room wearing a long coat and wide brimmed hat, martini near at hand. It was more comforting than the simple payoffs or violent interrogations that were probably more likely.

Requests for statements from the press were already flooding Darcy’s inbox, and she knew there would be more as the night wore on and the American news cycle caught up with the story. The frosted glass at the front of her office glowed with the industrious bustle of the public relations staff already at work. Darcy had nothing to do but send some preemptive inquiries to the Swedish government. When her phone finally did ring, she nearly catapulted off the sofa – her heart beating overtime.

“What?” She started talking before she even hit the answer icon. “What? What’s happening, is everyone okay?”

“He’s alive.” It was Bucky. Taciturn and cool as always when he was in public. “Foster is unharmed.”

“Alive? Bucky that isn’t- what about- are you okay?”

“Sitrep meetings-”

“-tell her that, idiot. Give me the phone you nonverbal accessory.” Jane’s exasperated huff came through clearly. There was a rustle and low murmuring and then Jane’s voice, calm and mildly irritated and absolutely wonderful, reached across the Atlantic.

“We are all fine, Darce. Steve’s good. A few bruises, but his new shield worked great. His phone got stepped on thought – he wanted to a call you. Threatened to make the Swedes wait but I know you said that the team needs to work on respectful relationships with local authorities. And god knows MR. Back in Black isnt’s going to help anyone there. I told Steve we’d call you, and he’ll get in touch as soon as he’s done with the meeting.”

Darcy slumped, nearly sliding off the couch. He’s okay. They’re all okay. She realized she was being overly dramatic. She had always known what Steve’s life was like. If they were going to be in a relationship – _holy hell, this was a for real relationship with her stuff in his closet and he wanted her to move in but she hadn’t agreed yet, and what if she didn’t get the chance and_ – she needed to figure shit out and get herself under control.

“You?” She managed past the hard press of air in her throat. “Everyone else? You’re good?”

“Yeah.” Jane’s voice got softer, calmer. There was some noise in the background. Distant sounds of emergency personnel and the clatter and mutter of bureaucracy in the aftermath of chaos. She could practically hear Bucky glaring at every moron who got too close to Jane. “It was…I’m glad Steve was there. But I don’t think crowds are probably a wise choice for me right now. I’ll stick to the lab.” It went unsaid that the Aether still in Jane could have made the situation infinitely worse. Darcy felt her stomach twist in dread. She had been the one to recommend Jane attend – insist on it.

Jane, as always, knew where Darcy’s thoughts would lead her and offered a distraction. “Maria got a few scrapes and she was terrified, of course, but no big injuries. Tony looked like he lost ten years off of his life, but he was breathing okay. He’s got a crazy new suit – looks like he was dressed for laser tag on the set of TRON. Can that man do subtle? Does he know the meaning of the word? Or does epic narcissism automatically come with a side of showboating?”

Darcy let out a wobbly chuckle. “Bucky?”

“Barnes looks like a building fell on him. Oh, wait, no. That’s just his default scowl.” Bucky murmured too low for Darcy to make out and Jane laughed. “He said he fell on the building, not the other way around.”

“Talk about showboating.” Her hands were trembling. Darcy took a deep breath to smooth out the jagged edges of adrenaline, just beginning to taper off.

“Fine. See when we can leave while-” A moment later Jane was on the phone again, her volume lowered. “Barnes moved off to talk to one of the Swedes. He protected Maria. Took a bullet to the back for her. It looks bad where his armor stopped it, but he shrugged it off. Seems to be moving fine. Tony saw. I think it freaked him out.”

“Heaven forbid that Tony have to reevaluate his life choices without terrorism or looming apocalypse playing a part. You know Bucky can hear you, right? Unless he’s like thirty feet away, whispering isn’t going to help.”

“Information that would have been useful yesterday, Darce. Thanks for the complete lack of heads up.”

Her body reminded her that she had been sick recently and up for far too long. Without the rush of nervous chemicals her eyes felt heavy and her muscles ached. “Wait – did you say...did you read my recommendations for Avengers liaison protocols?”

“It was in your weekly memo, Darcy. I assumed you wanted me to read it since I was on the email list.”

“Well yeah, I...I guess...” She had guessed that Jane wouldn’t care. It didn’t have anything to do with science – _real science_ – and Jane wasn’t particularly interested in the Avengers outside of how they kept her research safe and her boyfriend.

“Thor’s going to need to be caught up once he gets back. And it was extremely insightful. You never talk to me about this political stuff, and it’s interesting.”

“Oh. Well, that’s...oh.”

“You sound tired,” Jane commented as if she hadn’t both blown Darcy’s mind and brought tears to her eyes. “You should get to bed. Do you want Steve to wake you up? Or would you rather call him once you’ve gotten some sleep.”

“Have him do a selfie, he hates them.” Darcy scrubbed her free hand over her face and ignored the moisture on her palm. “Or better yet, get one of the three of you before you take off. Send it to me so I can see it when I get up.”

“You’re the boss.”

“That sounds weird,” Darcy chuckled, and if it was a little watery neither woman commented on it. “I love you, Janey. Be safe.”

“Love you too. And I’ll tell Barnes to give Steve a kiss from you.”

“You are the best friend ever.”

After she hung up, Darcy had Friday page the car service for a ride home. The public relations team could handle things until morning, and she knew she would need her rest. When Steve got home she had to make absolutely certain that he understood how much she loved him. There would be cuddles and declarations and take-out – because Darcy Lewis kicks ass but the kitchen belongs to Steve Rogers – and a fabulously sheer teal slip that made her skin glow and her eyes pop.

Darcy placed a requisition for a new phone for Steve as she got into the car, and almost missed a series of texts from Tony as she went to slip her tablet in her bag.

_Everyone okay. Junior sleeping._

_Kicked ass, no time to take names._

_Or interest in taking names._

_Starting on Junior sized suit tomorrow. Gold?_

_Swede-SWAT finishing up with Mr. War Bond. No charges were pressed._

_Saved the medal case – Space Ace can have a party to celebrate. No clowns._

_Or monkeys._

_Or pate._

_Get champagne._

_And those dehydrated ice cream sticker things._

_I am officially giving her naming rights for the next Stark deep space emitter array._

_Debrief at end of week. Possibly later._

_Delmonico’s can cater. And get sour worms._

_Junior needs present. Are islands too 1996?_

There were about forty more after that, which Darcy determined could wait until morning. There were too many questions and bad ideas embedded that she simply couldn’t deal with them until she had slept at least six hours and had about a gallon of coffee. She did not have the processing capacity for Tony at two in the morning after a terrorist attack. Darcy closed her eyes and leaned her head back for the drive to Brooklyn, halfway between daydream and REM. Steve was going to love the slip.

The car slowed to a halt and a gentle tap on the partition screen brought Darcy awake. She stared blearily at the street in front of her apartment for a few seconds.

“Oh, shit!” She fumbled with her phone and failed to unlock it three times before she realized she had pushed her glasses off her face and couldn’t see the number. “Pick up, pick up,” she muttered once she figured out the problem and hit her speed dial.

“Darcy?” The woman on the other end sounded surprisingly alert.

“Pepper! Fair warning, I think Tony is designing Maria an Iron Man suit. This is not my fault.”


	5. Contact Play

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darcy. Steve. Darcy. Steve. 
> 
> Check your insulin before you read. 
> 
> And your blood pressure after.

**April 26, 2017**

 

“You’re sure I can’t do anything else for you while I’m here, Jane?” Steve put the last of the perishable groceries in the fridge and turned to the scientist. Darcy had sent him a text to pick up the food at the base before driving Jane to her house on campus.

“Thanks, Steve, but I’ll be fine. And now I’ll have to eat apples and salads or they’ll spoil.“ She rolled her eyes. “Go, before Darcy convinces you I need to be walked and put to bed too.” The astrophysicist had commandeered her suitcase from Steve once they were in the door, and promptly abandoned it in the dining area. The table there was covered in papers and circuit boards – all except for one place setting left conspicuously clean. It looked like she was taking Darcy’s threat about meal breaks seriously - under penalty of an assistant coming check on her at home.

_It isn’t like she forgets to eat,_ Darcy had explained to him once. _It’s more like she’ll grab whatever is fastest so she can get back to work. I left for a long weekend with my mom once and came back to three empty boxes of rice puffs – not even the name brand cereal. I’m honestly surprised she doesn’t have a vitamin deficiency._

“And you can tell that nosey woman that I’ve been walking to the base for lunch – so I’m getting exercise and a hot meal at least once a day,” Jane continued.

“She just worries about you. She misses you.” Steve folded the cloth grocery bag and tucked it under the sink with a few others. He was anxious to get going, but it was important to Darcy that he get Jane settled. They had landed on base almost an hour ago, and it would be another three hour drive to get back to Brooklyn.

“I know. I miss her too. Tell her to come visit soon. And when Thor gets back we’ll plan a barbecue.”

Steve knew the drill. “I’ll bring the potato salad.” Darcy and Jane had decided the day after Thor went to Asgard that they would be treating his time away as if it could end at any moment. It could, of course. But it had also been since Christmas without word. He supposed for a woman who had waited two years a few months might not seem that long, but Steve couldn’t imagine hanging on, hoping the person he loved came back into his life. It touched on too many painful memories.

He said goodbye and made his way outside to his bike. He had already secured his bag to the back, so he put on a helmet to appease the state law before firing it up. The sun was fully below the horizon as he passed through the main gate. He had nothing but time to think on his drive home.

Steve wondered if Thor understood how long he had been gone – both the first time he had left Jane and currently. For a man who had lived a thousand years or more, would it be difficult to know how time stretched for Jane? Since meeting the god, the portions of her life that she had lived without him were swiftly coming to balance the time they had spent together. Did Thor understand what he was missing? Or in all those years, did his time with Jane seem brighter, heavier than the rest of his life despite the brevity?

It was tough to comprehend. Before he had understood Thor’s situation, Steve had felt extremely pressured, as if his days since coming out of the ice moved both too swiftly and stretched endlessly before him. Time was his enemy, taking away what he had known and plodding on without any brightness or hope. Getting Bucky back had felt like the only steady thing in his life. His friend’s recovery set a pace that seemed normal.

And then he met Darcy. Every moment since he had asked her out had felt like an exercise in restraint. He was on edge the whole week before their first date – wishing it would come sooner. And then he was waiting for the second date. Waiting to kiss her. Waiting to hold her. Waiting to have her in his bed. To tell her he loved her. To move in with her. Sam had cautioned him to take things slower, to let Darcy set the pace in this new world of dating where people had sex the first time they met and lived together for years without ever getting married. Bucky had advised Steve simply tell Darcy what he wanted and let her know he could wait if that’s what she wanted.

But Steve didn’t want to wait. Stockholm hadn’t even been in the top ten most dangerous situations he had been in, but it had been a sharp reminder that life was short. Too short. Even if you were a thousand years old and might live for a thousand more, the person you loved could be gone in an instant. Steve could die on any mission. He could be captured. He could be forced into hiding again. Hell, he could wreck his bike on the way home and never make it to Brooklyn. Unlikely, but possible. It could all be over in an instant – so every instant up until then needed to be worthwhile. For him, that meant Darcy. It was doing good and protecting people and seeing his friends happy and healthy and whole and laughing and leaving the world in a better place. And Darcy.

Four months they had been dating, and Steve had yanked his own leash more times than he could count, trying to hold back. The highway whipped by as he shifted gears, pushing the bike faster. That was longer than he had been with Peggy – and their almost-relationship seemed like a soft black-and-white trailer in comparison now to the technicolor full length feature he had with Darcy. It was longer than his long-distance awkward _thing_ and occasional athletic sex with Sharon, and infinitely more familiar and precious. Four months was long enough. He had been hinting at Darcy since March that he would be fine with her moving in. She lived just below his place, but he wanted her in his – in _their_ place. He was done waiting, done trying to ease into something that he wanted nothing more than to jump into – head first with no parachute.

Steve shifted again, listening to the engine roar. A grin split his face and he leaned forward, urging the bike even faster. He could make it in two and a half hours if he didn’t get pulled over for speeding. He was going to make certain that Darcy knew exactly what she meant to him, and spend every spare second building a life with her. No more waiting for the right time or worrying about moving too fast. It was only too fast if she thought so, and he’d never know if he didn’t ask.

Trees and lakes gave way to small towns and then suburbs as he drew closer, and by eleven o’clock he was pulling into the alley behind his brownstone and hitting the remote for the back gate and garage. Not for the first time he mentally thanked Tony for investing in rebuilding – for working with Vision and Buck to make sure he had a place that felt like home. It seemed ridiculously luxurious compared to what he had even dreamed of before the war, but a private garage and three and a half floors to himself was perfect after flying across the world in the quinjet, defending against aliens, or signing autographs at a children’s hospital.

He jogged across the yard and up the stairs to his back door, noting that the garden level windows to Darcy’s apartment were dark. She was probably already asleep. As hard as the flu had hit her, she needed the rest. Steve felt a little pang of selfishness for his desire to wake her up, but decided if he showered at his place and was quiet going down to hers she would probably sleep through it. Her bed wasn’t as long as his, but it would be worth having his feet hang off the end to spend the night with her snuggled next to him.

Steve disabled and restarted the security system and dropped his keys on the kitchen island. He tossed his jacket toward one of the club chairs Bucky had insisted he needed in the corner of the huge kitchen. Steve had thought them pointless until Darcy starting coming over for dinner and curling up there with a glass of wine to tell him about her day while he cooked. He found himself standing in front of the open fridge, staring into it with a stupid smile on his face. If she moved in, she could sit there every night after work.

He grabbed the milk and a couple of slices of pizza – he was hungry and it didn’t look too old. As he drained the gallon he stared at the fridge, only then noticing the note stuck right at eye-level.

_Welcome Home._

There was a heart with a loopy ‘D’ inside it. Steve pressed his fingers against it and left the empty jug on the counter. He walked through the barren dining room tugging on his boots. One ended up next to a pile of reusable grocery bags. The other he dropped in the living room. He glanced at the door that lead from his entry way to the basement stairs, but shook his head. Better to get cleaned up and changed before he joined Darcy. He swung around the newel post and cleared the first four steps while he unbuttoned his shirt. Bright green squares, practically phosphorescent in the ambient light from the street filtering in through the transom, brought him to a halt.

_Take._

_A._

_Shower._

Each word was printed in block letters on its own post-it and stuck to the riser.

_Brush._

_Your._

_Teeth._

Steve grinned. With his enhanced eyesight he could make out little horrible drawings of smiles and barely recognizable toothbrushes.

_Wake._

_Me._

_Up._

He stopped, one foot raised but not touching the next stair. His shirt was still strangling one wrist, the cuff stubbornly buttoned. The final note was just a full red lip print. _Oh_. _OH_. Steve bounded up to the second floor, abandoning his torn dress shirt in the hallway and his undershirt on the banister. He cleared the stairs to the third floor in four steps, landing as quietly as possible on the hardwood. He was hopeful, and his heart soared along with other parts of his anatomy when he identified the curvy lump in the center of his bed. The drapes across the street-facing windows were drawn, but enough light came through the stairwell skylight to see a splash of dark curls on his pillow.

Not only had Darcy stayed at his place when he wasn’t there, her note indicated she was feeling well and over her illness. _Perfect_. He couldn’t have asked for a better opportunity to plead his case and convince her to move in. Steve walked backward toward the bathroom until the edge of the bed was out of sight, shucking his pants on the way. As soon as the door was closed the lights came on and he was out of his socks and underwear and under the water before it was warm. He hadn’t showered so fast since he had lived with Buck and they shared a communal bathroom with six other tenants.

His hair was dripping wet and his mouth minty fresh as he eased his weight onto the bed. Steve was careful not to lift the covers too high and let a draft hit Darcy; he had a much better plan for waking her up.

She sighed as he slid closer, turning over and curling toward his body heat. There was a spot of drool on her pillowcase and crease marks on her cheek. Normally, Steve would have had to bite his tongue to keep from smiling. Normally, Darcy wore old shorts and t-shirts to bed. When he took in the dark blue silk and the lace edging across the swell of her breasts he bit his tongue anyhow. She was always beautiful, but after being apart for a week and then finding her in his bed in _that_ – Steve had to force himself to breathe. His blood was pooling too far away to be much help to his brain, so his plan to get Darcy to move in stopped short after Step One: Multiple Orgasms.

With careful fingers he brushed her curls away from her face and throat, indulging himself and tracing the soft skin from her jaw down to her collarbone. He pressed a kiss on the valley there. She smelled like his soap and her lotion. His fingers followed the fragile line of bone to her shoulder. Callouses snagged on the thin strap of silk and it slipped down her arm, only the full roundness of her breast keeping the whole garment from falling. His palm cupped the entire circumference of her bicep, his fingers overlapping the heel of his hand. The round softness of her arm was so different from his. From the hard muscles the serum had given him or the wiry frame and bones of his old body. Steve wanted to sink into her and stay there.

“Steve?” Her voice was husky with sleep. “You home?”

“Yeah, sweetheart.” He brushed his lips across to her shoulder and she tucked further in to him, bumping the top of her head against his ear. “You can go back to sleep,” he offered.

“I’m ‘wake.” She snuffled into the pillow, her legs rubbing against his. Steve released her arm to make a grab for her thigh and to keep her from accidentally kicking him. He’d gotten so good at defensive sleeping with her it was instinct to pin her legs with one of his and run his palm over her hip to keep her from rolling into him. Under her slip the globe of her ass was bare and warm and smooth under his touch. Steve experimentally ran his palm up to her waist and back down. There was no underwear to hinder him. He grinned.

“You sure? I can help you, if you’re still tired.”

“Mmmm, yes. Need help. Wake me up, please.”

“Nice manners.” The skylight cast an amber luminescence on the room that bounced off the greens and golds in the rug and made the cream of the walls and Darcy’s skin glow. He shifted her onto her back and teased his mouth across the swell of her chest, flirting with the lace trim of her slip. His leg slipped between hers and she ground herself against him. “You can’t be my girl – you’re too polite.”

“Yea- hm?” Darcy’s eyes remained closed but her full lower lip puckered in an attempt to hold in a smile. “Not your girl? Better keep your hands to yourself then, mister.” Steve pulled her arms up and braced himself over her. She shifted and the silk across her waist rubbed against the insides of his wrists.

“Whatever you say, sweetheart.”

Steve was good to his word. His palms never left the mattress as he used his chin to push her slip down. It was tight across her breasts, and the rasp of his stubble made her breath heave, pulling the material dangerously taut. Steve gave his head an unnecessary twist to listen to her gulp in air when her cleavage pressed against his rough cheeks. In the dim light the column of her neck was arched back, exposing the tender length of muscle that was Darcy’s weakness. He started with the point of his tongue at the hollow of her throat and traced circles and curving lines up to the hinge of her jaw. Reversing his path he latched on to her flesh and sucked firmly.

“Not...no fair.”

“Yes, fair,” he corrected quietly. He let the weight of his lower body settle onto hers and she moaned. The sham of a barrier created by navy silk between her and he was torturous. _God, this woman,_ was all he could think. Before he could forget himself entirely and rush straight to the finale, he forced himself to leave moist, brief kisses down her sternum. “So fair,” he whispered against the straining lace. “The most fair.”

Steve laved at the center of her breast, letting the rasp of damp lace assist him. Her breathing picked up and she thrust one hand into the longer hair at the top of his head. He used his teeth to tug the material down. The pebbled berry of her nipple sprang free against his lips – begging for attention.

“The fairest,” she conceded.

Her skin tasted warm and fresh like soap and lotion and something a little musky and a little dark and entirely Darcy. He tugged sharply, pressing her flesh against the roof of his mouth and reveling in her cry and the resultant buck of her hips. Steve switched to the other breast and her free hand scrabbled on his back; pushing and pulling at his shoulders, blunt nails digging into him when he nipped at the lower slope, using short licks and swift kisses to worship her. Under her heavy breathing and aborted gasps he heard the seams of her slip strain and then give. She didn’t seem to notice, so Steve took the opportunity to shove it down to her hips with his chin. He traced her bellybutton with his nose, finding the minuscule scar from a long-healed piercing. Open-mouthed, he gave praise against the slight roundness of her belly.

“Lovely. So perfectly beautiful.” He pushed himself further down, kicking the blankets completely off the bed and settling his weight onto his shins. Silk had twisted around her hips, offering him a peek of dark curls and flushed skin glistening with moisture. He rested his forehead against her hip and blew lightly on the tender skin of her thighs. She shivered.

“Steve!”

“Clever. How’d I get such a smart girl?” And, God, it was true. His Darcy was beautiful, and intelligent, and so damn funny he smiled against her skin just thinking about it. His mouth inches from the promised land and the scents of salt and heat and desire were overwhelming his nose and he wanted to laugh. To laugh and kiss, and taste and hold and _everything_. He wanted it all with Darcy. The pale roundness of her legs beckoned to him and Steve left several pretty little red marks that brought his name tumbling out of her lips.

“Ste-Steve!”

“Generous, sweet and sour,” he only had to wait a beat for her eyes to open and she scowled down the length of her own body at him. Steve winked. “I like.” Steve licked her thigh. “Your sweet taste.” He kissed the creased between leg and body, his cheek pressed against her opening. “And your tart little mouth.”

“You-!”

He licked her, all the way up to her clit, with firm pressure. Her lashes fluttered closed and her mouth fell open. “I like.” He swirled the tip of his tongue around the bundle of nerves. “How you give.” A flick of his tongue punctuated each word. “Give. And give. And give.” As much as Darcy talked, the closer he brought her to the edge of completion, the quieter she became. Nothing but shaky sighs and mewling little moans made his already throbbing cock start to drip. _Soon_ , he promised himself. She was twisting his hair painfully around her fingers and leaving tiny cuts in his shoulder. It only made his blood pound harder.

“I love you, Darcy Lewis.” He ground his chin against her and sucked her clit between his lips. Her back bowed and every muscle tensed. He kissed her as she came down from her high, legs trembling on either side of his face. His dick was demanding attention but he ignored it to watch her return to him. Cheeks flushed, lips bitten and swollen red. Eyes shining and dark with lust. When he was certain she was finished, he rubbed the moisture on his face onto her belly and grinned.

“Where’s your manners now? Say thank you, Miss Lewis.” His reflexes slowed by the dark and the lack of blood in his brain and the ample, naked woman before him – Steve missed the foil packet she threw and it hit him square on the forehead. Her cheek dimpled with humor and her glorious chest bounced with repressed laughter.

“Show me how fast you can get that on, and you’ll be thanking me, Captain.”

Thankfully, Steve’s dexterity was as enhanced as the rest of him. Twenty minutes later, Darcy was plastered across his chest breathing almost as quickly as he was. His limbs felt weightless, his bones melted into a puddle of contented goo. He could have happily fallen asleep right then. Darcy, however, was making dissatisfied sounds at their sticky, sweaty state. His calves were already hanging off the bed, so Steve scooted them both down – which did incredible things to the way they were connected together. She squirmed, complaining that her legs were too tired to wrap around him, so he made the sacrifice of filling his hands with squeezable bits of soft flesh and walked them both to the bathroom.

He leaned against the counter and gently lifted her off and down with a kiss and a sigh. Darcy started up the shower while Steve took care of the condom.

“It was worth it to spend all day moving my stuff so that I can use this shower.” Steve’s head snapped up, his mouth open. Darcy continued, oblivious, “I have lustful thoughts about this shower, Steve. And the bench. Oooo, it’s calling to me.”

“Darcy?” His throat felt tight. _Did she-? Was she-?_

“Yes, like that. It calls my name. It says, Darcy, run away with me. We shall live in warm, lavender scented paradise together. With pulsating wand settings. Oh, and I moved that extra box of bedding to the second floor linen closet to make room for my shoes.”

The condom squished in his hand and Steve glanced down to see the destroyed remains of contraceptive and sticky residue. Had it been ripped like that before? He shook his head. Darcy was on the pill for just those sort of accidents – he’d talk to her about it later. At the moment, he had more pressing concerns. The shower door opened and she stepped into a cloud of steam with a groan that sent a jolt of electricity down his spine. Blue-green eyes looked back over her bare shoulder.

“Coming?”

He ignored the lascivious curl of her lips. “Darcy, did you move in while I was gone?”

“Um, yeah?” The curl dimmed. “If that’s- I thought you wanted me too and I-” He threw the condom in the trash without looking and was in the shower in one stride, crowding her against the wall until the backs of her knees bumped the bench.

“Yes. I wanted. Want. Yes.” He kissed the growing smile on her face. It was a shameless misuse of energy to keep the hot water going, but Steve and Darcy didn’t leave the shower until he was certain she knew exactly how he felt about living with her. Clarity in communication was the most important part of any relationship, so he had been told.


	6. Leaky Raincoats

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bonus Chapter

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't really part of Best Avoidable Mistake - but I couldn't resist including it.

**June 17, 2017**

 

Steve brushed his hand down the leg of his pants to keep from yanking back the curtain and grabbing Darcy’s hand. It was ridiculous, his worry, and completely unnecessary. The danger had already passed and Darcy was obviously fine. Some scrapes on her hands and knees, a few bruises, but nothing major.

_Then why did she insist o_ n an exam, a traitorous voice in the back of his head wondered.

_Because she traveled through a portal to another planet,_ he argued with himself.

_Then shouldn’t Jane be in here too?_

That stumped him. Which was frustrating. And Jane had been avoiding his eyes all through breakfast, which was a sure sign that she was planning on lying to him. Dr. Foster was brilliant – and more than a little scary if the accounts of the battle at the facility were even half-correct – but she couldn’t lie her way out of a mattress store.

Dr. Vivas’ voice floated through the curtain. “You’ll feel just a pinch.” She was drawing blood, and that made Steve even more nervous.

 He leaned closer to the curtain as if that might help her hear him. “You’re sure you feel okay? You didn’t hit your head? Even a light bump?”

Bucky snorted from the other side of the infirmary where he had agreed to sit on a backless stool while Cho used a portable x-ray on his leg. “ _Udar_ _budet namnogo bol'she cherez neskol'ko mesyatsev_. Twit.” Cho’s back was turned, so Steve flipped him off. Bucky just snorted again.

He had every right to worry. His girl had been attacked at what was supposed to be the safest location on Earth. Then gone to another planet. _Another. Planet._ And while Steve knew Jane would never knowingly do anything to endanger Darcy, her powers were not exactly honed to precision. They could have just as easily ended up in Antarctica or Asgard or floating in space. His stomach cramped, partly from hunger because he hadn’t been able to eat anything since Friday had alerted them to trouble at the base, but mostly from fear. His hand hovered over the fabric separating him from Darcy.

“Do you feel dizzy at all? Your eyesight okay? Are you cold? I can get you a-”

Dr. Vivas’ voice interrupted him from behind the curtain. “I’ll perform the examination myself, if that’s alright with you, Captain Rogers?”

Bucky bit off a laugh and Steve scowled at him, feeling the back of his neck flush. “Sorry, Doc. I’ll just... I’ll wait. Here. Just...”

Darcy made a sound of discomfort and Steve tensed all over again.

“Deep breath, relax,” Vivas instructed. “Very good….Hm...Yes. Everything sounds good.”

_Sounds good?_ Steve found his breath speeding up. Had Darcy been injured internally? Her lungs? Or her heart? _Jesus, what could portals even do to a regular person?_ They hadn’t been together all that long - six months, and she had only agreed to officially move in with him a little over a month ago. They hadn’t had enough time. There would never be enough time with Darcy, not even if they both lived forever. _She’ll be fine, she’ll be fine,_ he tried to assure his spiraling anxiety. Give him an army of alien soldiers any day and he was cool as a cucumber, but faced with the possibility of Darcy being hurt, even-

“Sweetheart, can I get you anything? Do you need anything? Dr. Vivas, Bucky’s fine if you need Dr. Cho over here.” Bucky’s leg was unsplinted and Cho was cleaning dried blood off the skin so she could put a couple of stitches where the bone had come out. His arms were folded over his chest and he frowned at Steve so hard his face was in danger of cracking. “He’s fine. I’ll get her. And maybe a nurse. Doc, do you need a nur-”

“For fuck’s sake, Rogers!” Darcy ripped back the curtain, to reveal her form laying on an exam table. Her feet were propped up, her pants missing and a light sheet draped over her knees. “I’m pregnant not dying! Calm the hell down!”

There was a sharp inhale behind him, but Steve’s feet were nailed to the floor. He stared at Darcy’s face, flushed and scowling with irritation. Her t-shirt was pushed up so high he could see the lacy edge of the blue bra he had given her last week. There was a faint, purpling bruise as long as his hand and a third as wide on her left ribs.

Pregnant. Not dying.

He glanced at Dr. Vivas, who was standing at Darcy’s feet. She had a plastic wand in one hand and a set of headphones in her ears. Her eyebrows were so high they’d need a parachute to get safely back down.

Pregnant. Not dying.

Vivas cleared her throat and calmly set down her instruments, stripping off her gloves. “Yes. Well. Everything looks good. I think I am done here. Darcy, please have Friday page me...later. I’d like to discuss a few things with you. Excuse me.” She walked away then, pulling the curtain out and around to include Steve in its sham of privacy. Low voices hummed in the infirmary, but Steve couldn’t focus on anything but the sinking expression on Darcy’s face.

Pregnant. Not dying. Pregnant.

Darcy. Pregnant.

“Do you-” she started hesitantly at the same time he said,

“When-” He didn’t need to finish. He suddenly knew and felt every inch the twit that Bucky had called him. After the Nobel ceremony. He had been desperate for her, and he thought the condom might have ripped – but he hadn’t been sure if maybe he damaged it taking it off. And he hadn’t worried too much, because they had a backup. Darcy was on the pill and it had worked fine after their slip up in March. And he was going to say something to her, but she had still been naked and he hadn’t been with her since before she got sick and-

“You were sick.”

She nodded. “Yeah. I threw up my birth control for a good week. I didn’t worry too much since we had the condoms, too.”

“It tore.”

“No shit,” she snorted and rolled her eyes.

“No, I mean...Darcy, I’m sorry. So sorry. I should have said something then, but I wasn’t sure, and then I forgot when-”

“You’re sorry?” Her voice was calm. Her face so expressionless it gave nothing away.

"What? No!” Steve blanched and took one long step forward so that he was pressed up against the table. “Not about that! This. I’m not...about this.” He glanced down at her belly, soft under the sheet and with the same slight roundness that was only really noticeable when she was naked. He loved that. Loved to press his lips against that soft, smooth skin and then kiss lower. And that had gotten them where they were now. With a baby. Darcy. Pregnant. _With their baby._ He gently took her hand and forced his eyes back to hers. They were blue-green and framed by her glasses. Just like the first time he saw her. His gaze traced the three little freckles high on her cheekbone.

“Are you?” he asked.

“No.” Her answer was strong and immediate and it relaxed Steve so much he sagged against the table, rocking it with his weight.

“Good. That’s...good.”

“Yeah.” Her lips began to turn up, and Steve felt an answering grin spreading on his face. He wasn’t in control of it. His jaw fell open and his cheeks hurt with the force of his happiness. Darcy bit her lip. “So. We’re going to have a baby.”

“Yeah.”

“Good thing I already decided to move in.”

“Yeah.” He pulled her hand up to his mouth, pressing it against his smile in the best kiss he could manage while his head was still overwhelmed. A baby. His and Darcy’s baby.

“Guess we’ll need a nursery.”

“Yeah.”

“But you can probably throw out the condoms.”

“Yeah.” Steve paused, then shook himself trying to focus. “What?” Darcy was leaning up on her elbows, her creamy pale neck stretched up to lift her face toward him. Her pink-bitten lips were grinning and her eyes sparkled with the same joy that was tightening his chest and scrambling his brain.

“You’re going to have to meet me half-way here Rog-”

He kissed her before she could finish.

 

 

 

_*Udar budet namnogo bol'she cherez neskol'ko mesyatsev. : Bump will be a lot bigger in a few months._


End file.
